


some days

by sos_blimek25



Category: Toaru Kagaku no Railgun | A Certain Scientific Railgun
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, romantic only if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sos_blimek25/pseuds/sos_blimek25
Summary: Someone unexpected comes to visit Misaki when she's having a bad day."She was one of the seven Level 5’s of Academy City. And in a city where atrocities happened every day, some days it became too much to bear. Some days, her bed wouldn’t let her out."
Relationships: Misaka Mikoto/Shokuhou Misaki
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99





	some days

**Author's Note:**

> Mikoto's gone through a lot of trauma in the series and she's quite an anxious character. So I thought to myself, "well, Misaki's gone through a lot too, maybe she would get depressed sometimes." And this one-shot came about.
> 
> Mental health is rarely explored in the Toaru universe and I think it would be quite powerful if done right.
> 
> Please enjoy some MikoMisa hurt/comfort.

**some days**

Shokuhou Misaki’s bed wouldn’t let her out.

She hated days like this — days where the weight of the world crushed her, confined her, squeezed her of every last drop til only exhaustion was left. Days where her eye bags were heavy but her stomach was empty because she couldn’t move. Days where her phone would buzz for hours and every message would go unread.

She was one of the seven Level 5’s of Academy City. And in a city where atrocities happened every day, some days it became too much to bear.

Some days, her bed wouldn’t let her out.

Hokaze Junko was her right hand for a reason. She had a keen eye and a kind heart, and when something was wrong with her queen, she was the first to notice. When she called Misaki for the fifth time with no answer, and it was well past noon, she knew something was amiss.

She knew it was another one of those days.

Junko had a tray of food in her hands — a summary of breakfast, lunch, and dinner when someone passed her by. Someone with a light scent of perfume and loud footsteps who flashed her a smile.

Misaka Mikoto.

In a moment of spontaneity, Junko forced the tray into her hands and pleaded to her.

“W-What…?”

“Please! It’s the queen,” Junko said. “Could you bring this to her room?”

“Shokuhou?” Mikoto blinked. “Wait, why?”

“She hasn’t eaten today. When she gets in these moods, she refuses to tell me anything, but… perhaps she’ll open up to you.”

Those words echoed in Mikoto’s mind, puzzling her as she found herself walking towards Misaki’s room. When Junko had such good intentions, it was hard to say no.

Mikoto couldn’t recall if she’d ever been in Misaki’s room — she imagined it to be full of lavish furniture other students could only dream of. That was the kind of person Misaki was, after all: rich, spoilt, and selfish.

It was hard to imagine such a person having a bad day. When it came to Shokuhou Misaki, Mikoto preferred to keep her thoughts like space change and not spend any more than necessary. But if she hadn’t eaten all day — and Misaki enjoyed eating —it must be something serious. Confused and conflicted, Mikoto reached Misaki’s door.

She had hoped this would be a quick trip, but when she knocked, there was no response. She frowned. Knocked again, no response. Once Mikoto noticed the door was unlocked, she reached for the handle instead.

“Shokuhou? I’m coming in.”

Mikoto crept into the room, feeling as if she were trespassing. Her eyes darted about the unexpectedly normal room — it looked similar to her own, except instead of two beds, there was one large queen-sized bed in the centre. And wrapped up in a mound of blankets, there was a figure lying there.

Shokuhou Misaki.

Mikoto swallowed, the air around her thick as ash as she approached. “Hey.”

Misaki’s form barely shifted. She turned her head towards the door, and peering out the corner of her eye, noticed someone standing there.

“Misaka-san?” Misaki turned back into her pillow, a shallow smile on her lips. “Come to laugh at me, have you?”

There was a hollowness in her voice that Mikoto noticed right away. Yes, immediately upon entering the room, she felt it. A weight. A sadness draped over the room like a blanket. This wasn’t Misaki’s usual laziness — there was definitely something wrong.

This woman had done nothing but piss her off in the past, but Mikoto’s compassion ran deeper than she knew. She felt no relief, no happiness in seeing Misaki like this. Instead, her heart clenched in her chest — it pained her.

For Misaki to think Mikoto would laugh…

“No…” Mikoto approached the bedside table. “Hokaze-san said you hadn’t eaten and insisted I bring this to you.”

“Thanks. Leave it there.” Barely a hint of emotion, let alone gratitude. Mikoto obeyed anyway, putting the tray down and stepping back.

She waited a while, watching the rise and fall of Misaki’s breath, for that was the most she moved. She remained curled up in bed with eyes half-open, no longer acknowledging Mikoto’s presence.

“…are you gonna eat it?” Mikoto asked.

“Later.”

“You sure?”

There was a pause. It was long enough for Mikoto to get her hopes up, but Misaki just shook her head. Her ruffled hair covered half of her face, much too messy for her liking, but she did nothing about it.

“Misaka-san.” Her name had never sounded so lifeless. Misaki continued. “You’re the last person I want to see me in this state. If you’re looking to do me a favour, leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

Misaki sighed. “I can’t force you.”

Mikoto didn’t know what compelled her to stay, but something kicked in, and she wouldn’t fight it. She knew better than to doubt a gut feeling. With a worried crook in her brow, she said, “You really should eat something.”

“I will.”

“Have you had anything to drink?”

When Misaki admitted she hadn’t, Mikoto grabbed the glass of water from the tray. It was still cool. “Can you try sitting up?”

“Eventually.”

But Mikoto was patient. “Now, please?”

It reached Misaki that time — a strange, caring warmth. Her eyes slowly found Mikoto’s, while her mouth remained in the thinnest frown. “Why do you want to help me?” Misaki asked.

“I don’t _like_ seeing you hurt,” Mikoto said. “Besides, we all have parts of ourselves we want to hide. We’re all fighting something and we don’t always win, so… who am I to judge?”

Though they came from reluctant lips, Misaki could tell Mikoto’s words were genuine — they had a different ring when they came from the heart. She had never found comfort in Mikoto’s presence before, but she did then, and an ever so gentle smile appeared on her face. “I’ve never seen you so tender, Misaka-san.”

Mikoto glanced to the side — she didn’t know what to say. And as she frowned and pondered, there was a shuffling sound. Misaki took a deep breath. Slowly, she rose, her hair dripping across her face as she propped herself up on one elbow. She wasn’t completely upright, but it was a start, and when Mikoto glanced back to see this, relief washed over her face.

Misaki reached out and took the glass, bringing it to her lips. As soon as she took the first few sips, she realised how dehydrated she was and drank until there was nothing left.

“Hokaze-san said you get like this sometimes,” Mikoto said.

“I really will have to speak with her after this...”

“Are you okay? Is it triggered by something?”

Misaki shook her head but remained reluctant to explain. As someone who understood the human mind better than anyone else, she was ashamed to be bested by this — this void that took over sometimes, these depressed days.

She glanced at Mikoto, who was patiently waiting for Misaki to speak.

Why had Junko sent Mikoto, of all people, when she knew they didn’t get along? Was it because they were Level 5’s? Because she knew they shared a pain no one else would understand? Was it because she saw a similar darkness in their eyes? Because she knew their pasts, presents, and futures would be intrinsically linked for all time?

Mikoto was still waiting for Misaki to speak. Despite their differences, she was still there, still waiting. Misaki admired this foolishly noble side of Mikoto, though she rarely got a chance to see it first-hand. It was oddly reassuring.

With a deep breath, Misaki allowed herself to be vulnerable for a little longer.

“Academy City puts a lot of pressure on us. Some days I feel it more than others, that’s all,” Misaki said. She glanced away. “Surely, you understand.”

Mikoto sat on the edge of the bed and gave a firm nod. She was listening, she understood. By “us,” Misaki meant the Level 5’s, the end goal of all espers in Academy City. The responsibilities, the publicity unique to the seven of them — it was a heavy burden to bear, and Mikoto struggled with it every day.

Misaki never seemed bothered by such things, but that was a testament to her poker face, not her resilience. It was nice to know Mikoto wasn’t alone.

“I could use my power to fix these moods, but I’m hardly bothered.” Misaki ran her fingers through her hair, slowly undoing the knots.

Mikoto frowned. “That doesn’t sound particularly healthy.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But fighting it this way is much harder.”

“Healing’s never easy,” Mikoto said. “Take your time.”

They were simple but comforting words. Misaki’s smile grew. “Misaka-san… If you treated me like this all the time, I’d like you a lot more.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Though they hid behind nonchalant words, they both understood how important this moment was. They could feel it — the unnecessary wall between them being broken down, one vulnerable step at a time. They imagined it would take lifetimes, but perhaps soon, they could be honest with each other.

Perhaps they could admit how much they cared for one another.

Some day, yes, but not in that moment, not that day. Instead, it went unsaid, and the two sat in silence for a little longer, enjoying the company of the other. Misaki eventually sat upright, putting her back against the head of the bed. Even if it was just a little, she felt lighter.

“Misaka-san, you can go now. I should be alright,” Misaki said.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm,” Misaki nodded. “I’ll send you a photo to prove I’ve eaten if you like.”

“You don’t have to do that, I trust you.” The words came out too quickly for Mikoto’s liking — it was terrifying, speaking honestly, and so she rushed to cover up her tracks as soon as possible.

Mikoto stood up and patted down her skirt. “Anyway, um… take care. If you feel like this again, you can tell me, and I’ll keep you company.”

She walked towards the door, twisting the handle before a voice called to her.

“Thank you, Misaka-san.”

“No problem.”

And shortly after the door closed, Misaki got out of bed.


End file.
